


Those Hands

by LadyGrimReaper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John is a tease to himself, John's doctor hand, M/M, wank fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGrimReaper/pseuds/LadyGrimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The music was loud and John was lost in his pleasure enough to not hear the opening of the door and the footsteps up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>A Fill for the Sherlock Kink Meme:  <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21766.html?thread=129867270#t129867270">Prompt is here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Hands

God, it's been a while. John settled on the couch, nursing a finger of scotch and a prominent erection. 

Sherlock was gone for the week and weekend; he was to be back on Monday and John had gone to town on the flat. 

House music, a large vat of industrial strength bleach, several pairs of rubber gloves, and a face mask and the flat save Sherlock's room was sparkling clean. The kitchen itself had taken most of the week with having to carefully clean all those scientific supplies. The table had looked brand new underneath all those experiments. The fridge had never looked so clean and organized. 

Today was a special day.

He laid his head back on the couch, slowly palming his jeans. Call him a romantic but he had the lights dimmed, house music a murmur in the background, candles lit and scotch bottle on ice.

John slowly opened his trousers making sure to brush the palm of his hands against the growing bulge. Setting his drink down he wiggled out of his jeans and carefully folded them to set on the couch. The anticipation was one of the very best parts. And he was quite excellent at teasing himself. 

Pants were next, the waistband having to be pulled out and then down to come off safely. Those too were neatly folded and carefully placed. 

His cock lay against his thigh slowly thickening with each heart beat. John rubbed his hands up and down his thighs and lower abdomen, skin becoming highly sensitized to his very own touch. 

God he had been having a slow, languorously satisfyingly amazing wank once a day along with his 'Wanking just to be wanking because his flat mate was gone' and holy god he had never been as relaxed and satisfied in such a long time. 

His hands traveled up and down his abdomen and upper thighs making sure to avoid his length. He continued until his breathing hitched audibly in his chest. 

He threw his head back and opened his mouth wide to breathe nice and deep while he started moving his hand up and down his cock. 

His hand and length were glistening in the dim light, making smooth and slick sounds as flesh slid against flesh. 

He drew it out for as long as he could, interrupting frequently to thumb at the spot behind the head; to palm his full balls; to encircle just the head and startle himself into him jerking his hips up into his hand; to trace a wet finger from scrotum to his opening, making his breath stop as he kept getting closer and closer to penetration 

His head was gently rolling from side to side; both of his hands were quite occupied with pleasuring his body. He had a relaxed rhythm going. His left hand was confidently alternating between palming his heavy sac to teasing his opening with slick fingers. John was on his back now, legs bent to his chest in an impressive feat of flexibility. His right hand was either thumbing the slit, thumbing that spot right behind the head, or ever so slowly pumping up and down a very nice cock. 

The music was loud and John was lost in his pleasure enough to not hear the opening of the door and the footsteps up the stairs.

He let one foot perch on the edge of the couch cushion so he could start to thrust up into his hand; he gave in and sped up just a little bit. It tore more moans from his lips, especially when while he was fucking his hand, his other palm was massaging his balls. 

Gasps were starting to spout their way from John's lips and he abruptly pulled his hands away and slapped them into his thighs. His fingers curled, gripping tight while his eyes clenched closed; he tried to even his breaths. He cursed animatedly. 

"Fuck!"

His breathing was wrecked, thin lips now swollen from the licking and biting, face pink and sweaty. 

The form at the door had hidden behind the entrance front door. He saw how John teased himself expertly. Self denial had never looked so good looking. 

Those doctor hands rose from those well built thighs and slid up his abdomen once more before relocating one to his shaft and the other to down below. The game started anew. 

Sherlock, for who else could walk in at the exactly right time, left the door gapped open so he could discreetly watch from behind it. 

John started up his smooth rhythm again, a bit louder than before now. His lovely hands were wet with the lubricant and shined in the candle light: a beacon or halo of debauchery. 

As those hands did their job, a sheen of sweat glistened upon John's skin. Small, panting mewls of pleasure escaped his lips. His head was thrown back against the head rest of the couch and his body laid out in the candle light like an offering. To Sherlock. 

John upped the pace a little bit and a sound of exquisite torture filled the room. Sherlock had the perfect view of a gorgeous slick cock in one hand while a perfectly smooth scrotum was put on display by another wet hand. 

John licked his lips, brushing a finger against the tight muscle and he hissed a desperate breath slapping his palms against his thighs again to hold off the orgasm.

John repeated this pattern of orgasm denial for a truly long time. Behind the door, Sherlock had given up on ignoring his erection and was soothing a palm down the bulge in his trousers. Oh god John had let out an honest to god whimper. He couldn't take it any longer. He cleared the door in silent, quick steps. Miraculously John was entirely lost in his self pleasure and working on another round of coaxing his body to the edge.

John's panting picked up and there was a little whine added to the exhale of each breath.

His eyes slowly opened, pupils enlarged and unfocused for about ten seconds after they locked on Sherlock's.

With his hands still working and Sherlock's i tense gaze watching, John could barely hold back a scream as his head fell back on the couch and streams of thick come erupted from his cock. His muscles clenched, his body jerked against the couch, and his lungs failed to support his breath as wave after wave of pleasure crash and spread from his groin out to his entire body. One palm was still caressing his sac and the other was wrangling out every last drop. He tried to breathe through the orgasm, but Sherlock's hungry stare stole all the oxygen from the room, igniting a burning explosion of feeling deep in his groin.

John whimpered as he stroked himself to hypersensitivity, slowly. It felt so good it actually hurt.

He finally had to let go of himself to dig his nails into his thighs, hysterically panting for breath.

A breathless chuckle escaped his throat, eyes opening to see blown pupils and wild curls. " Fucking hell. Sherlock. Welcome home, mate. God you triggered a bloody amazing orgasm. "


End file.
